Her Unexpected Choice
by C. M. Spinks
Summary: AU of the book wherein Christine makes a different choice. Oneshot. Critique is welcome!


_AN: A Leroux based fiction that picks up where Christine is supposed to choose between the grasshopper or the scorpion, and how Erik deals with the choice. Please note that this is book-based, I am not entirely certain with the layout of Erik's house, and I've kept the movement around it vague for that reason. I'd rather be vague than inaccurate, I guess!_

 _So this is based on a prompt entpslytherin on tumblr gave to wheel-of-fish and phantom-of-the-keurig that I was given permission to run with:_ _post/168760581142/what-if-christine-had-chosen-to-save-herself-and_

 _keurig will probably be writing the darker version of this idea, and I will probably leave this as a oneshot! As interesting as this idea is, I'm not sure if I could run with a Leroux based version of this for much longer than I've already got! That being said, I do think any of the films/ the musical would last longer, but I also think I'm not going to be the one to explore them right away, if at all. So, allllll that being probably way more than anyone wanted to hear: I do hope you enjoy what I came up with here!_

Her Unexpected Choice

I stared in disbelief, and it was the only thing I could do in that moment, for I had not planned for this outcome. She chose what? I had fully believed, in the darkest hollow of my heart, that the light in hers would compel her to chose one way, and not the other. I scarcely hoped for it, and yet I was prepared only for that singular choice. I thought I knew. She chose _what?_ I could barely breathe, the air trapping itself in my collapsing lungs, my whole _wretched_ body feeling as though it were withering around me. I thought I knew what would happen, how it would all go- _She chose what?_

"I choose the grasshopper, Erik." She said, much more calmly this time, gesturing again to the caskets. Indeed, inside the grasshopper had turned, and the scorpion remains still, lifelike and yet so dead. "You may play your requiem." She spoke quietly, but firmly, such as I have never heard her speak, at least, not while meeting my gaze. I trembled where I stood, for she has called my bluff, the greatest one I'd ever set, the sweetest trap I'd ever laid. It's ruined.

I opened my mouth to speak, dismayed, but no words would come to me. I tried again, but with no effect, no success. I was too perturbed- I had so dearly hoped, in her most desperate hour, that even a life with me would be worth her love and the Persian and all of the Opera house being allowed to live. But she called me out. Did she see through the bluff? Did she know?

But she looked down and away, sighing, and the despair found in that faint breath is all the answer I needed.

No, she did not know. She did not, and yet she chose the impossible option because, truly, a life with me was not worth even all those people's lives to her. I could see guilt and sorrow and true despair in her weeping eyes, and I knew that it pained her to have made that choice, but she said nothing of these things, and remained steadfast in her decision. She would condemn the opera and all its patrons and her lover and herself and I to a fiery demise rather than live with me.

I reeled, realizing this. Was I truly such a monster, such a _demon_ , that even this angel could not pity me long enough to let me live a few months, perhaps a meager year, pretending that she might love me? I must have been. What a wicked, terrible thing I must be, for her to loathe me so much, to pity me so little.

The events of the day and the month and the year all flew over me, then, and I realized that, yes, I truly had been. In these past few days alone, how much had I hurt her, so desperate to get what I wanted from her? What terrible things had I subjected her and the boy to, in a pathetic attempt to wrench her choices away from her under the guise of love?

"Erik?" Christine whispered, again calling me from my thoughts. I did not recall falling to my knees, and so it was with shock that I found myself looking up at her. She was expecting it to happen. Did I not say that it was an automatic feature, that the moment she turned the hateful grasshopper was the moment we'd all perish together? I had, I had, and it was a lie, a foolish, woeful lie. I shook my head, trying to shake loose the numbness from my mind, to no avail. Still, I forced myself to stand, my body aching from the life it had lived.

"If that is how it is to be, Christine, then Erik will make it so… It will be as you wish it to be." I said, as calmly and stoically as I could manage, and strode away. I halted in the doorway, though, and turned back to her. "I must know one thing, Christine. One thing, and only you can provide it."

"What is it? What more must you know?" She asks, not meeting my gaze, eyes firmly affixed somewhere between our feet.

"Why?" I felt as a child might, asking his mother why the night comes, why he cannot play, why this, why that, and always fearful of the answer. She seemed surprised, as though she hadn't considered the 'why' entirely, and only knew the answer based on some instinct rather than logic.

"I could not lie." She spoke, a moment of silence torturing me first, and paused before continuing, "I could not lie, and I cannot now. I loved you, in some way, once, but to choose you now and like this would be a lie built on things no longer true. I chose to remain faithful to the truth. In a way, faithful to the time and the person I did love, and the person I am and the person I love now." She blinked, then, and a new tear escaped her eyes, and she sat, preparing herself most calmly for her end. I nodded, unsure what else I could do, and left her that way. I dutifully ignored the painful sobs that followed me, hoping that my next actions might ease that pain better than any attempted consolation from me would.

Down I went, to the boy and the Persian, where surely the water was draining from the room where they'd fallen from the torture chamber, the grasshopper providing the same function as the scorpion. Down I went, and opened the doors to that cellar, and yes, I found them well and alive and in disbelief, the boy with his useless pistol raised, still dripping wet. My old friend and enemy the Persian stared me down suspiciously, but I raised my hands. No trickery here, I meant to say.

"What is the meaning of this? Are we not to be blown to pieces?" He demanded anyway. I had supposed he'd heard me. Hadn't they been yelling and shouting their advice to Christine through the very floorboards? I sighed- on another day, and amongst another set of people, he'd be right to suspect me, but I shook my head. I've spent my last bit of cleverness, played my last futile trick.

"Come." I could only rasp, and turn away. Slowly, and then with concerned haste, the two followed. Up we went, back to the room where I'd left Christine. As I opened the door and the young ones saw each other, they rushed across the room, arms greeting one another with a desperation I am able to say I desired and envied. Even with the boy soaking wet, she embraced him, arms wrapped tightly around him, head tucked into his shoulder just so, and his leaned against her. It so hurt to see, but I let them play out their reunion, hardly able to watch and yet unable to keep my eyes away. The Persian watched, head whipping from the sight of them to myself, fully perplexed. I might have been inclined to laugh, had my heart not been dead.

"Erik? Again, I must ask, what is the meaning of this? A cruel trick? Will you now tear them away from each other, after such torture to the both of them?" He asked, venomous. Once again I shook my head, but now, with all three of my guests' attention, I took a deep breath. I had one thing to say:

"There is no trick. Erik has realized his folly. The trick was in the powder, and it's all washed away, as you saw. You are all.. you are all quite free to leave. The boat is at the dock. Christine knows the way out. Take it. Go." I dared not look at any of their faces, but my last words spoken, I felt it did not matter. I gave a dismissive wave and walked past the Persian and the couple to my sitting chair, and I sat, facing away from whatever it is they choose to do.

For a grand moment there was only stillness in the room, barely the sound of breath at all. I might have taken pleasure in the dramatic tension in the air, but it didn't matter. All my gambles were for nothing, and I was spent.

The moment passed and I heard the boy speak to Christine, and back and forth a moment, but I tuned them out. Soon they would be gone, and the silence would return. I needed only wait, I thought.

But I was startled to have a hand placed upon my shoulder, and I quite violently jumped in my seat and went rigid from the contact. It was only Christine, her eyes wide and fearful and curious, a look I have known and induced far too many times. I looked away, remembering my horrible face and all the horrible things I'd done blaming it. Somehow the latter seems so much worse now.

"Erik-" I started, but I stopped, and tried again, "I am most sorry, Christine… Is there something I can do for you, before you go?"

"Why?" She asked, immediately, almost before my question was finished. I swallowed hard.

"Why what, Christine?" I stalled, though truly I did not fully comprehend what it was she wanted to know. She inhaled, as though shocked, as if there could be any question as to what she meant.

"Why this? Why let us go? Be certain that I will go, Erik, but I must know. I thought- You _said_ -"

"I said and did many things, Christine, and all of them were wrong, but only that was a lie." I interrupted her, unable to take the quiver in her voice. Her emotion, her beautiful emotion, is what always put her voice above the rest, gave it a power over me and many, and I could not _take_ the way it stung me then. "The opera house and all its occupants and you and I and the boy and, yes, even that Persian man assuredly glaring at me, shall all remain in our uncombusted states, for I _lied_. I had hoped to force your hand, that we might be wed and perhaps you might fall in love with me, then, but none of that matters.

I was wrong, I can suddenly see, and you must go, for I cannot make any greater amends. I have nothing left to give you, Christine, for I am but a man, and a terrible one at that. Letting you leave is, truly, the best I can give you, and it is not enough for all that I have put you through." I could see the red marks on her wrist from where I had restrained her earlier. God, how could I not have seen what I was doing? How could I have failed to understand myself and my actions and _her_? What a damned fool I was.

"Erik-" I shuddered from the _desperation_ in her voice, and cut her off again.

"Christine, please. Live your life how you would choose to live it, and I shall die here and you all may be at peace. Take what treasures I have, live in wealth, though your viscount would do you well enough. Take the art, the music, burn it if you wish or keep it if you must, but it is yours. The house and all it's machinations are yours, should you ever find a use for it, or leave it to rot around me. Take what you can, have it all or have nothing of it, but this house and my art and my leave are all I can give you. Leave. Be happy. I can do you no better." There is nothing else in this world I could offer in that moment, nothing that could truly speak to the horror and sorrow I felt for what I had done to her, this woman I claimed to love. Did I even love her? Did I know what love even was? I couldn't know, couldn't understand, through all the pain. There seemed to be no answer for me, and I did not dare hope for one either.

"I want to understand, Erik. You make no sense. One moment, you are desperate for a wedding or a funeral, begging me to choose, and- and now you choose neither. Do you never play by your own rules?" She demanded.

"No, I suppose not. But there is no game, now. It is all done. It is all.. over. No game, no rules, no victor. Only you, Christine, and whatever you'd have me say." I finally managed to look up at her, and I saw the boy and the Persian behind her, all equally enraptured in this strange moment of clarity of mine. How long would it last? I didn't know, and I was afraid to get wrapped in something I couldn't control, in an emotion that consumed me again. Christine thought hard before replying:

"I only want to understand. That is all I _ever_ wanted. You, you have been a teacher and an angel, and then a mystery and a man, and you would have made yourself my husband, but no less mysterious and strange to me, and for those reasons all the more frightening. In all this, a-at the end of all this, I only want to know why it has all unfolded this way." She sighed, and I felt that I saw her for the first time. She is a woman, not unlike any other woman, beautiful and kind and talented, yes, and she is not an angel, my redemption, or my saviour. She is simply a person, and I asked too much of any one person's ability to manage from her. I pushed her to her edge, and then I shoved her over, all the while thinking I was tying her to me and saving us both. Even if that were true, I'd only be pulling her over my own edge, and into an inky death with me.

"I am an old, horrible man, and I have been desperate to feel anything but for much of my life. I have been denied.. many things, and I found that the only way I could have much of _anything_ was through force and trickery and violence. I have been half-mad for so long, but I felt that, when I met you.. You seemed to understand- the _pain_... But unlike me, you found ways to have some sort of happiness that were not like mine.

You seemed to _have_ by _giving away_ , and I suppose I foolishly thought you could give me something, some affection… some something I cannot understand, and it would take my hurt away, and would fill these gaps in my being.. But I tried to get it the way I have always done, by taking, and taking heartlessly, and it was wrong. It was all wrong. I was wrong, and I have never detested myself more. I have been blind, and so incredibly _wrong_ , and I do not believe I can ever make up for it." I spoke, and then my emotions got the better of me, and my own line of sobs run through me. I put a hand to my mouth to suppress it, but there was nothing to be done for it. I stood, shaking, and tried to escape, but I was halted by a hand clasping mine, before I could fully remove myself from the chair or the room.

It was Christine, of course. Her eyes flicked between my own, and as she looked, her eyes went misty, jaw trembling.

"Why did you never say? Why put us all through so much to get to this?" She begged, voice pained. "Why couldn't you ever _say_ anything?"

"I do not know. I have never- never been able, or allowed, or known how to. No one has listened, before. No one has wanted to."

"You damn fool!" The Persian thundered, fists at his side, and startled the rest of us. Christine turned to face him, and I had to blink away my tears to make certain I was seeing correctly. The man of iron himself was flushed, cheeks wet, eyes miserable and furious. "You were so busy running away you never thought to look behind you. If you had, you might have seen _me_. Was I not your friend? In all these years, was I not there when you were in need, and I could provide?" He spat, furious.

Again I felt weak from suddenly seeing it, suddenly knowing again the depths of my stupidity. Yes, yes, the Persian, my friend Daroga, was always there, from the moment I met him. He had always given when I was in need and could give something to assist. What hadn't the man done for me? How had I managed to forget or dismiss it all? What a bastard I was to scorn that assistance, time and again.

"I am a fool, my friend, though I am a fool who never deserved you. I was wicked when I came to Persia, and I never did you well for all your effort on my behalf. I could not see- I did not understand, and perhaps was willful in that failure to comprehend. I am a fool, a heartless fool, and I am sorry. To all of you." I looked, then, from my friend to my student to her lover, and settle there. The boy.. Raoul.. looked at me with an inscrutable expression. I knew not what to say to him, for he deserved none of the hate I'd given him. I almost silently begged for him to yell, to hate, for I deserved it, and could not take the silence.

"I feel as though I should be furious with you. You.. have been my greatest foe, and I have lived a number of years on the sea. You have.. pained me from the day I knew you existed, and probably for a fair time before then. I have wanted to fight you, to destroy you to protect Christine, and I admit to having strong feelings of hatred towards you.. And yet, I feel as though I know you from your tale alone.. I feel as though I _recognize_ you. I dare not.. express forgiveness, not yet, not in this moment, but I.. claim to understand at least in principle, the, the nature of.." His words failed him, and the boy joined the rest of us in shedding tears. Christine released my hand and went to him, embracing him most comfortingly. As she should. I saw then that they were already one, married in soul if not in ceremony, and had been since they were children. Their hearts were only for each other, and truly always had been. I was so wrong to try to force her to do anything else.

When they pulled apart, gazing in each other's eyes, I saw understanding pass between them, though the subject I could not suspect. Daroga watched paternally, a ghost of a smile on his face. Even I was.. unexpectedly pleased by the sight of them together. It was a rightness in the world, like the warmth of a fire on the coldest of days.

"Christine, Raoul.." They turned to me, almost afraid again, but both so willing to protect the other. "I want you to be happy. Go from here, and do what you will. As I said, take what you will of my home and my belongings, to do with what you will, and that shall be the end of my tampering with your life. Be happy." I sounded so weak, so frail, and I felt all my age then, but I do believe it was the first time I had ever spoken truly or kindly or even _good_ , even a fraction, and I was happy enough to do so.

"What will become of you, my friend?" Daroga asked when the lovers could not. They hesitated to leave, curious, though I did not understand why.

"I will go. Where, I do not know." I began to turn, ready for them to leave, but Daroga halted me:

"You are lying, my friend, and quite poorly at that. You plan to disappear, and sleep forever, don't you? That was your plan from the moment she chose. To go into death, alone." Daroga said, calling the truth from my lie. Christine and Raoul both gasped, and I held back a groan.

"You know me well, but I thought it best not to to traumatize the young ones any further. Would good does it do them to know that Erik is at his end, or to make them imagine it?" I sighed.

"Perhaps.." Christine started, suddenly, but stopped, looking at Raoul. They shared a look, and they both turned back to me.

"Perhaps we do not wish for you to end?" He finished the sentiment, and I was taken aback.

"I.. fail to understand what you mean. I.. have been monstrous-"

"And you shall have to apologize many more times, I'm sure, and explain, but wouldn't you like a chance to make up for it? To have what you wanted in the first place, but.." Christine lost her words, searching.

"But earned, this time, instead of taken. It would take some time, but we both see.. I think we both _understand_ , monsieur. As Christine said, I wish to understand what this was all for.. could you not see yourself explaining, helping us to understand, and perhaps finding a place there?" Raoul explained. I looked between the two of them for a moment, and my heart ached, confused. It made no sense to me, this behavior. I was vile, my behavior was abominable, and yet.. mercy? From those I wronged the most with the least reason? I could not comprehend it, and I nearly collapsed. As it was, I stumbled back into the chair, wheezing.

Immediately, Christine and Raoul found themselves on my right, and the Daroga came round to the left, all kneeling, taking my hands in theirs as I tried and failed to make sense of this. They were patient and waited for my breathing to return to normal, though I would have sworn it took days for the panic in my lungs to subside, the screaming of my heart to calm, and the dizziness flooding my brain to fade away.

"You would.. willingly have me in your life, after all this? The chamber, the lying, the violence- you would invite this- _me_ \- back into your lives?" I asked, finally, incredulous.

"As I said, it would take some time, but.. surely you are not above forgiveness." The viscount explained softly.

"I have loved you, Erik. As my teacher and friend.. I would have that man back, if I could." Christine smiled then, sweetly, sadly. "I have lost so many people in my life to sadness.. I would rather not add another."

"And I would help keep you from trouble, my friend, as in our old, golden days." Daroga added. I looked from him back to Christine and Raoul, in utter disbelief of it all. A terrible hopeful feeling rose in me, threatening to flood me with more happiness than I thought possible in this miserable life I've lived, even considering the misery I brought upon myself.

"You.. I will beg you to forgive me, but this is taking Erik quite a moment to come to terms with.." I sputtered as my eyes began to water again. Daroga chuckles, patting my hand. "This is not a cruel joke, I hope?"

"Have you ever known me to joke, you pompous fool?" He chuckled again, shaking his head.

"Daroga, you _are_ a joke." I teased, but the light heart with which I spoke soon faded, and I felt a stab of pain- all the guilt and the sorrow and the hate digging in my heart. "Erik- I am entirely undeserving of this."

"I believe that's for us to decide, Erik. Do you _want_ a second chance? I cannot be a wife to you, but I would be your friend and your student still, if you would have it so." Christine offered, speaking plainly, for which I am grateful.

"It would.. be the most anyone has ever given me, to have you three. But what of my crimes, of which there are many..? Can you so.. simply forget them? I wouldn't dare ask them be forgiven.."

"You can only try to absolve yourself." Raoul spoke, though with some difficulty. "I.. no longer believe it's up to anyone down here to judge you. The world around us will likely never forgive, even if it does forget, but we, at least, can try to know the truth. Don't you think?" I could see that his sense of morality was at war with his respect for law and justice, but I did not understand why. Still, Christine and Daroga both seemed to agree, and so I did the only thing I could. I agreed, and broke into tears again, though I was met quite soon with the tears of my companions and a fond embrace from them all.

"If you will have this mess of a man, in any capacity, then it will be so. My friends..!" I sobbed, but it was happiness that choked my words, happiness and a small but growing hope that perhaps I _could_ pay back my sins, and make up for all the misery I'd added to the world.

I do not know how long we stayed there, but it hardly matters. When Christine and Raoul left, it was with cheer and smiles, and I even received a handshake from the good viscount and a final embrace from my student. Daroga stayed in my guest room that night, and was there in the morning and for several days after, though Darius did protest.

Christine and Raoul both came to call in the coming week, and we spoke of many things. It is with some unease that I admit I was a nervous wretch for much of the first session, though all parties involved did much to ease that strain, and it did not last past the first few callings. It was a struggle to talk many times, but the struggle was worth it, in the end. Many tears were shed by the four of us, and reconciliation was hard fought-for, and I dare to believe earned, in the end. Everything seemed to be put right, somehow, though I have been haunted by older aches since then. Time and trouble have started to catch up with me.

I keep thinking about it all, the pleasant few years we've had since then, as I fall to sleep each night. I'm not able to do much anymore, and they are young and restless, and I cannot bear to keep them tied down. I am simply grateful for what time of theirs I may have. I still sneak up to watch Christine perform, but I do not sit alone in Box Five anymore. The good viscount and my dear Daroga sit in the front seats, and I behind them, still a ghost, though one who does not cause anymore trouble. It isn't always easy, but I do believe it has always been worth it. The world has continued to spin without me trying to control it, and it may even be better that way.

I wonder how it might have been for us if she had chosen the other way, if she had accepted my insane proposal. Would any good have come of it? Would there be any happiness in it?

I have come to think that, no, not as much as here, now, the way I have known it. I can truly no longer imagine how I thought it might play out, but I am certain it would be much shorter, and much less sweet than these happy years. I am grateful for what I have gotten, for the life I was given, even so late in my years.

Even when I am alone in the nights, I do not feel alone. I have known love, and though it is not how I imagined it, it has been the most wonderful thing. I do not feel as inhuman as I once did, though my guilt and I go back and forth in this argument. I do what I can for the ones I love, and I hope it can be enough to make up any of the wrongs I've committed. I give what I can of myself, what they will have of me, and accept what I might receive in return.

I can feel my days running out, but I do not fear it as I once did. I cannot say whether the merciful god my student believes in exists or if they will take mercy on my still-stained soul, but I have tasted heaven in the kindness of the family that chose me, even when I did not deserve it. I have gotten to be the prodigal son, returned to love after foolish suffering, and I am satisfied with that. I could ask no more of anyone, and would gladly pay back my happiness with whatever hell might await me.

It will be very soon now, yes, but I am at peace, as I have never been before. My only wish now is that they will be as well, when my time runs out. It's very close, and I will miss them sorely, wherever I find myself after this life. Will they miss me? I hope, perhaps a little, but not too much. My wonderful children, who in the end did manage to save me from myself, and my dear friend who helped me grow as no one else had ever tried, I hope they are happy when I am gone, as happy as they made me.

It's the only thing I ask for, when it's all over.


End file.
